


Yasha

by cabbagetop



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Winter Soldier - Fandom
Genre: Bisexual Clint Barton, Fanon Alec Trevelyan, Fraction Hawkeye, Gen, Protective Tony Stark, Wherefore speaketh thou of timelines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 14:54:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17367977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cabbagetop/pseuds/cabbagetop
Summary: "Language, bratishka," Trevelyan says mildly, and raises his cup to his lips, hiding what just might be another smile."Shut the fuck up, you fucking hypocrite," Bucky snaps out like it’s a reflex, then freezes, and yanks the towel off his head to stare.  "Alec?"Trevelyan tosses his head a little (like a shampoo model, Tony thinks dazedly, if there were a shampoo marketed to long-haired Navy SEALS or bear wrestlers) to shake the perfect golden strands out of his eyes.  “Yasha,” he says agreeably.Or: Alec Trevelyan appears in the Tower, looking for the Soldier he did his best to protect once upon a time.Clint swoons, Tony snarks, Bucky bubbles up with joy, and Steve gnashes a few teeth.  Not, in fact, intended as crack.  Even gets a tiny smidge angsty there for a minnit.





	Yasha

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, you guys, I don't even know. My poor brain has no marbles left, you gentle readers, supposing there are any of you out there who actually clicked. Please be kind.  
> (Why do I write and then POST this crazy crap? Good lord, I have no idea.)

There's a man in the kitchen.

This should be rephrased, Tony thinks.  There are often men in the kitchen; after all, he lives with up to nine men at any given time, depending on who's on-planet and who's dropping in for a visit and who needs somewhere to stay for a few months because he can't pay the rent again and refuses to just let Tony either move him in permanently or buy him a building ( _Parker.)_ Clint sometimes brings home a one-night stand of indiscriminate gender, and Fury's known to make an occasional presence, mostly just to annoy them.

This isn't anybody Tony's ever seen before, though- he would _definitely_ remember that effortlessly cool shaggy hair, framing his face in long ash blond wisps.  And those shoulders.  Turing's shiny testicles, Tony can only see the guy from the back but the snug white dress shirt tucked into his stunningly-tailored trousers makes it clear that the man's build would give Steve a run for his money.

Not that Tony's jealous, or anything.  That would be unbecoming.

He doesn't look like one of Hawkeye's, either- Clint never lets them wander around alone, for one thing.  Not since the Debacle of the Captain's Missing Underpants (later found on ebay, where Steve was tragically outbid at the very last second by an anonymous buyer for a ridiculously high sum (it was totally Tony, and those underpants are hanging framed on the wall in his workshop for motivation.  He’ll probably auction them off for charity someday (he won’t, they’re his forever and ever))).

All that said, Mr. Tall, Blond and Gorgeous isn't exactly acting like someone who's broken in for nefarious purposes.  He's standing at the counter wearing the aforementioned white shirt over very nice trousers, making coffee.  Now, Tony appreciates coffee.  Possibly more than anyone else on earth, including the Finns.  But even he wouldn't stop during a B&E to use a French press.

"Good morning," he says politely.  He can be polite when he wants to be.  "Tony Stark.  I don't think we've met.  Which is strange, considering this is one of my private floors in my private tower."

He doesn't want to be.

"How very remiss of me," the man says, turning around, and, holy motherboard, he's got crinkly green eyes and a smirk and a rough English accent to go with the rest of the package.  They're all doomed.

"I- that's not really an answer," Tony stammers.  Blondie's got a big scar down one side of his face, too, but somehow it just fits right in to the general alpha dog aura rather than detracting from anything else.  "You mind telling me who you are, and how the hell you got in?"

"Trevelyan."  It's another final-sounding answer, like there isn't going to be any elaboration, but that's maybe because _Trevelyan_ is pouring out coffee into three mugs.  He adds various amounts of cream and sugar to two, sets one of them aside, and offers the black one to Tony.  "As I explained to your _lovely_ lobby receptionist and to your little voice in the ceiling, I’m here to see a friend, which is why your Mr. Jarvis invited me in.  Coffee?  You'll have to fix it yourself."

Tony takes the cup automatically and gulps half of it down in one go, edging sideways to sit at the kitchen table.  So, JARVIS let the guy in.  That suggests he's probably trustworthy enough- JARVIS runs his own show sometimes, but he'd never put Tony in any danger.  And even if their mysterious guest does turn out to be a problem, JARVIS will run up a suit, and Bruce, Steve, Bucky, and Clint are all in residence.  He decides to sit back and see how this one plays out before he raises any alarm.

Besides, Trevelyan makes damn good coffee.

Clint wanders in a few minutes later, not seeming to notice either of them, squinting blearily and stumbling for the electric coffeepot like a caffeine-driven zombie.  Trevelyan casually defends the cup he's drinking from and the one he's set aside, letting Clint veer off-course and take the hot carafe with only a slightly raised eyebrow.  Steve follows close behind, damp and smelling like soap, just up from the gym for the last three hours with his cyborg super-brother.  Bucky's probably still down there; the novelty of unlimited hot water still hasn't worn off yet for their Soviet sniper, and his showers are always impressively long (upsettingly long, when Tony lets himself think about it, and then he has to go buy Bucky another Woolrich's worth of warm flannel).  Steve stops in the doorway when he sees Trevelyan.

"Oh.  Hello," Steve says.

"Captain," Trevelyan says, somehow sounding like he's referring to Steve's rank and not his Avenger's name.  He toasts him with his coffee mug.  Steve looks curiously to Tony.

"This is Trevelyan," Tony says helpfully.  "He's waiting for somebody.  Apparently JARVIS likes him."  
Steve immediately looks wary, but he accepts Tony's calm as a stand-down order and shifts to fix himself a bowl of cereal, side-eyeing Trevelyan all the while.  Clint, having flopped down next to Tony with the carafe cradled protectively to his chest, perks up enough to finally spot the tall, muscly stranger leaning back against the counter with his ankles crossed in front of him, close enough to nudge the agent’s bare feet.

" _Wow_ ," Clint murmurs.  Still not entirely awake, then.  Tony snorts.  Clint glares at him.  "Don't even start.  I bet you thought the same thing."

He can't deny it.  Tony chooses to ignore him.

"Anybody else got dibs yet?" Clint whispers, leaning in to Tony's chair.

"Nope."

"Hell yes."  Sitting up and raising his voice, Clint says, "You know, when most people are waiting for somebody, they use a coffee shop, not a kitchen in a random skyscraper.  I could help you find one."

"Hardly random," Trevelyan says, taking a sip of his coffee and narrows his eyes over the rim in Clint's direction.  Clint swoons a bit.  Tony wishes he could make fun of him, but the first hit of that stare hit him hard, too.  "You're the archer, yeah?"

"You've heard of Hawkeye," Clint breathes.  "I mean, yeah.  Greatest shot ever, never miss."  He sets the coffee pot down and holds out his arms, mimicking a draw.  "Pew."

That gets them a full-on grin, and if Tony weren't sitting down he's pretty sure he'd be staggering.  Steve glowers mistrustfully and crunches his bran flakes very loudly.  "Who are you waiting for?  Sorry, I guess I missed that part," he says pointedly.  He doesn't sound sorry at all.

Trevelyan looks like he's about to answer, but the elevator doors open and Bucky comes stumbling in, barefoot and grumbling, towel draped half over his face as he scrubs at his wet hair.  "If Barton or Stark are home then somebody better start me up the damn coffeemaker, because they always drink it all in the night and _never_ fucking refill it.  Rude assholes."

"Language, _bratishka_ ," [ _little brother_ ] Trevelyan says mildly, and raises his cup to his lips, hiding what just might be another smile.

"Shut the fuck up, you fucking hypocrite," Bucky snaps out like it’s a reflex, then freezes, and yanks the towel off his head to stare.  "Alec?" 

Trevelyan tosses his head a little (like a shampoo model, Tony thinks dazedly, if there were a shampoo marketed to long-haired Navy SEALS or bear wrestlers) to shake the perfect golden strands out of his eyes.  “Yasha,” he says agreeably.

Tony, Steve, and Clint swing their heads back and forth like they're watching a ping pong match.  Bucky knows him- so he's probably a bad guy, given that most of the people Bucky knows are either a hundred years old, HYDRA, or Nazis.  Then again, it's been five seconds and Bucky doesn't have a dozen active weapons in his hands- so Trevelyan's almost definitely _not_ a bad guy.  Unless, of course, Trevelyan has already triggered some kind of latent programming, making it impossible for Bucky to attack him?

Trevelyan sets down his cup and holds out both hands, making a grabby gesture.  "C’mon then, I travel halfway 'round the world to see you and I don't even get a handshake?"

"Alec," Bucky says again, and drops the towel and flies into his arms.  Trevelyan wraps him up in a bear hug, tucking Bucky's head under his chin and nearly lifting Bucky's feet off the floor.

Steve's jaw drops.  Clint scowls.  "Guess somebody's got dibs after all," he mutters grouchily.

"You weren't halfway around the world, you fucking liar," Bucky grumbles, shoving his way in impossibly closer to Trevelyan’s- Alec’s- chest.  "You were in Portugal."

Alec peers down at Bucky, who won't move his face away from Alec's throat, and raises his eyebrows.  "Clever lad.  How did you know?"

"Because everybody with eyes and ears knows that Bond is in Portugal this week, after that stunt he pulled with the ambassador and her husband.  And this is Bond's shirt.  It's too small for you and it still smells like his stupid perfume."

Alec throws back his head and laughs, patting Bucky's back.  "I'll be sure to tell him you said that."

"Make sure you do.  Somebody's gotta keep his ego in check."

Tony clears his throat.  "Not that this isn't super sweet, and everything, but am I allowed to know who this guy really is who just let himself into my tower and is cuddling my assassin?"

Bucky beams and twists a little to face them, keeping himself in the tight circle of Alec’s arms.  “Guys, this is Alec Trevelyan,” he says, looking pleased as punch.  It’s a bizarre expression on someone whose version of resting bitch face looks like he wants to kill everybody in sight, starting with Steven Grant Don’t-You-Fucking-Dare-Jump-Off-That-Building-Steve-I-Swear-To-God Rogers.  “He was my friend when I was with HYDRA.  Alec, you probably already know everybody’s name and their goddamn shoe size, so I don’t need to introduce you.”

“Lazy,” Alec rebukes softly, knocking Bucky on the top of the head with his chin.  He picks up the coffee he’s kept aside on the counter and hands it to Bucky.

“Hypocrite,” Bucky accuses again, grinning up at him.

“Your friend,” Steve says slowly.  “From HYDRA.”  His eyebrows are creeping up his forehead and his back is ramrod straight, arms flexing.  He’s got a point, really.  They’d all be a little wary if Clint suddenly brought a Chitauri home to play.  Steve looks a little upset, too- possibly because Bucky is slurping down his coffee like nothing could be wrong, while he hasn’t eaten so much as a piece of toast the rest of the Avengers have made for him unless he could watch them spread the butter.

Bucky rolls his eyes.  “Not like _that_ , goofus.  He wasn’t….”  He glances up at Alec, clearly choosing his words carefully.  Alec gives him a squeeze but keeps his face utterly impassive.  “…really there by choice.  And he didn’t know what HYDRA was.”

“That’s helpful,” Tony says.

Alec smirks.  “The RSFSR had all sorts of nasty tricks to get people working under their orders, and traded any number of their operatives on to other groups,” he says, and it’s not _quite_ a growl.  “I’ll just leave it at that, shall I?”

Steve still looks on edge.  Clint’s still salivating over the biceps resting on Bucky’s shoulders, bulging the seams of that too-tight shirt.

“He’s a good guy,” Bucky insists, focusing on Steve as the primary obstacle in the room.  Probably accurate, considering how Steve frets whenever Bucky so much as sneezes.  “They used him as my handler for a few years.  He took care’a me.”

“They took him away from me once they realized what was going on,” Alec adds.  “Not that they ever knew the whole of it- but somebody noticed that he wasn’t responding the way he used to, wasn’t reacting _appropriately_ to me.  I might be a black-hearted bastard but even I couldn’t leave him there, so I went back home and turned myself in to MI-6-“

“ _MI-6.”_   Clint’s so overawed he sets down the coffeepot.  “You’re a double-oh!”

Alec smirks and winks at him.  Clint makes a noise like a keysmash.

“I’ve been through all sorts of tests and trials to clear my name, gave them all kinds of intel and led a number of spec-ops in exchange for freedom and future reinstatement, and first chance I got I had our tech department look up my lad here.”  He squeezes Bucky’s shoulders again, and Bucky smiles happily like all his vital fluids have all been replaced with sugar syrup.  It’s distressingly adorable, and Tony’s only thankful that at least the guy’s not wearing his Soldier eyeliner and leather gear.  “Been up to all kinds of interesting things since I’ve been away, haven’t you?  Made yourself some nice new friends.”

 Bucky grins and nearly _wriggles_ like a dog whose owner has just come home from work.  As he says the word ‘friends,’ though, Alec very deliberately pins the three other Avengers in the room with a glacial green stare that makes even Steve swallow nervously.

“So, of course,” Alec continues brightly, like he hadn’t just brought down the temperature of the room a dozen degrees with a single look.  “I had to fly out here and see how you are.  You don’t mind me hanging around for a bit, do you?”

Bucky looks thrilled.  Steve looks grudgingly interested.  Clint looks lascivious.  Tony really has to put his foot down somewhere.

“Nope,” he announces.  “Sorry.  You can’t stay here.”

“What?” Clint asks, crestfallen.  Bucky doesn’t chime in, but he’s going for the full puppy eyes.  They are very effective.  “Why not?”

"Because,” Tony says, holding up one hand and ticking off his fingers as he goes, “we're completely full up to our quota of, in no particular order, sexy Russian assassins, formerly-brainwashed former-soldiers, super-sneaky spies, and big, muscly blonds.  That this guy comprises all four and therefore takes up significantly less space than if we went out and found one of each does not make a difference."

"I don’t want to stay, anyway," Alec interrupts.  Bucky turns the tragic puppy eyes on him.  "I just came to check up on Yasha, see that he’s eating and sleeping and being well taken care of.  I'll kip in with him for a few days, then be on my way."

"Oh, _will_ you?  So nice of you to inform me who's going to be staying in my house and eating my food."

"Tony, what the hell is your problem?" Clint snaps, kicking his shin sharply under the table.  Even his toes are rock hard, the freak.

"What's _my_ problem?”  Tony gestures wildly in Alec’s direction, trying to disrupt Clint’s admiration long enough to make his point.  “Look at him!  I can excuse Steve and Bucky and Thor, because they're various kinds of super-humans.  You’re okay because you’ve got the godly physique but also an absolutely ridiculous nose.  But look at this guy!  He's smart, he has a sexy job and a tragic backstory, his smile is making me rethink my place on the Kinsey Scale, _and_ he has an accent!  How is this fair?"  He jumps up, rounds the table, squints his eyes and paws hopelessly at Alec's hair.  Startled, Alec tries to lean away, but he's trapped between the counter and Bucky's insistent presence under his arm.  "I bet you just wake up with it like this, don't you?  Man, I hate that."

Bucky snorts.  "I'm so glad you've never met Bond."

Alec frowns.  "I'm not sure I'm alright leaving you here.  They sounded a lot more sane on paper.  But assassins, secret agents, and a mad scientist?”

“Sounds just like MI6.”

“Exactly,” Alec says.  “What kind of recommendation is that?  I’d keep you well away from _James_ if that weren’t exactly the way to make him take an interest.  Wouldn’t you rather come home with me?”

“I still have an apartment in Bed Stuy,” Clint pipes up.  “Probably.  You’re welcome to come hang out there instead.”

Alec rattles off an address, questioningly.  Clint gets stars in his eyes.

“Double-ohs,” he sighs.

 

***

 

It’s finally decided that Alec can stay in the tower after all- partly because Tony is a very magnanimous human being, and partly because Alec wins Steve over when he randomly picks up where Bucky left off on drying his hair.  Nobody can resist Bucky _and_ Steve’s pleading eyes.

“What is this?” Alec mutters irritably, rubbing the towel along the lengths.  “It’s gone all ragged, and it hangs in your eyes.  Your new mates let you go about like this?”

Tony feels a little unfairly chastised, and he’s about to point out how unwilling the traumatized torture victim has been to have anyone with sharp objects near his head, when Bucky shrugs.

“You wanna fix it up, while you’re here?”

“Looks like I’d better, hadn’t I?”  Alec swipes the towel over Bucky’s head from back to front to make him grumble and laugh.  “Go finish getting dressed and we’ll head out for a bit, yeah?”

Bucky frowns down at his jeans and plain red henley shirt.  “I am finished.  I have boots downstairs.”

Alec looks down his nose reprovingly.  “Your hair’s still damp and it’s not warm outside.  Go get a jacket.”

Bucky sighs loudly, hesitates a moment- then, incredibly, he nudges his way out of Alec’s half-hug and trudges to the elevator.

As soon as the doors close behind him, Steve whips around in his chair to stare at Alec with wide eyes.  “How did you do that?”

Alec rolls his shoulders.  It’s a little too predatory to call it a shrug.  “Yasha’s a good lad like that.”

“No, he isn’t,” Steve says flatly, eyes narrowed.  “He’s as stubborn as a mule on the Queensboro Bridge.  You said you’re going out.  Where?”

“Starbucks.”

Clint snorts.  “Really.”

“Really,” Alec insists.  “He likes Starbucks.  Their ingredients are all pre-packaged by central manufacturing and have an extremely high turnover rate.  Wonderfully tamper-proof.”

“I know that,” Steve says defensively.

“Also, it’s a lovely afternoon and he looks pale like he needs to get out of doors.  So, we’re going for a coffee.”

“Cool.”  Bucky sweeps through the elevator doors, a plain dark blue windbreaker on over a brown hoodie.  “Do I pass inspection now?”

“By a thread.”  Alec sets his and Bucky’s coffee cups in the sink.  “You want your usual?  I’ll order ahead.  I can’t stand the music in the American places.”

“Hang on.  The Winter Soldier has a usual at Starbucks?”  Clint interrupts.

“Mocha with extra whip and a frosted cookie,” Bucky rattles off.  It’s the same thing he usually gets when they stop at the coffee cart on the thirty-sixth floor, Tony notices.  He usually takes the poor guy there as a treat when they need a break from repair or maintenance jobs on the arm.

“So,” Tony muses.  “Basically, you took him from HYDRA and you coaxed him over to your side with sugar.”

Alec merely smiles.

“I like it.  JARVIS, make a note.  Next time we dig up a HYDRA cell we should try sending in a Mrs. Fields gift basket first and wait for the sucrose to make them more compliant.”

_“Yes, sir.”_

“Do it.  Fury will hate it,” Clint says approvingly.  “I wanna hear him yelling about ‘ _fucking smiley sunshine cookies.”_

“I’ll do it if you send me the video.”

“You know it.”

 

***

 

After all the fuss, Tony doesn’t see much of Alec for the next few days.  There’s a morning where the double-oh makes Bucky a mountain of fried eggs, toast, and various vegetables and invites everyone else to join in, and a couple of dinners where he piles Bucky’s plate high and scowls their soldier down when he tries to protest.  For the most part, the two seem to spend their time out on the town or tucked away in Bucky’s room.

But he hears them talking, once, on accident when he comes up to the common kitchen late at night after making a breakthrough on rapid-action biodegradable plastics and deciding to reward himself with a milkshake.  They’re on opposite sides of the island, Bucky sitting and Alec leaning over him with his hands planted out wide, the abandoned remains of a midnight snack between them.

“It’s all fine now, though,” Bucky is saying as Tony edges out of the door to the emergency stairs he’s just jogged up.  He sounds like he’s not sure whether he’s trying to convince Alec or himself.  “I mean, my head’s still kinda screwed up sometimes, but I don’t think it’s gonna get any better than this.  An’ I’m still just as good at fighting, so I can be _good_ now, you know?”

“Ah, _bratishka_ ,” Alec sighs.  “You _are_ good.  You’ve always been as good as you could be.  That’s why I don’t like you being here, feeling like you’ve got to fight for another fifty years to clear your conscience of something that was never your fault in the first place.  You’re free, and you’re safe.  You’re _done_.  Why can’t you just be a normal civvie for a while?”

“What, like normal without a metal super-powered arm and an international warrant?” Bucky says sardonically.  Tony frowns.  He’s had his lawyers on Bucky’s case for months; nearly every charge against him has been dropped, and Germany is even talking about offering reparations.  But has he told Bucky that?  And has anybody bothered to tell him that the Winter Soldier is allowed to retire if he wants to? When he thinks back, it seems like everybody just agreed without any discussion that _of course_ Bucky would want to fight bad guys with them.  Why wouldn’t he?

Maybe because he’s kinda tired by now? Tony thinks, and makes a mental note to thump his forehead on the wall in the lab for a while.

“Yasha,” Alec growls, and shakes Bucky’s metal shoulder a little.  “Look.  You know you’ve got options, yeah?  You’ve always got me.  And that means you’ve got Bond, for what little he’s worth.  And M, and Q, and the rest of the double-ohs, and all of our safehouses all over the world if you don’t want to come straight to me.  They’ll all of them help you however they can because they _want_ to, because it’s _you_.  You’re not trapped here.  And if you ever think you are, I’ll have you out in less than a day.  You know I can.”

Tony slips away back down the stairs- he doesn’t need to hear any more of this private conversation.

 

***

 

It’s movie night the next night, and while Tony’s pretty sure that Steve has no idea how eager Alec is to steal their special snowflake out from under their noses, he’s clearly not happy with how snuggly the two are.

“You can stop scowling at me any time, Captain.  I’m no threat to you.”

“Listen to that,” Tony grumbles under his breath.  Clint, squashed into the armchair next to him, has got his hearing aids turned all the way up so he can hear Tony’s muttering.  “’I’m no threat to you?’  Who even says that outside of a lame action-drama movie?”

“It’s the accent,” Clint murmurs.  He looks like he’s thinking about making popcorn.  “You know, like how all that shit in period romances actually sounds romantic when Colin Firth or Aidan Turner say it but if you or me tried we’d just sound like stuck-up dicks.”

Tony hums in agreement.  Then he turns sharply to stare at their archer.  “You watch period romances?”

“Shut the fuck up, you totally knew what I meant so you have no room to talk.”

“Fuck you.”  Tony glowers and settles a little lower in his seat.  Then he tips his head to the side, nudging Clint’s arm with his elbow.  “Turner’s chest hair?”

“Mmmhm.”

Clint accepts his fist bump, which Tony figures means they’re all good.

“You do know I can hear you, right?” Bucky interrupts.  “Super-soldier hearing ring a bell?”

“What are they saying?”

“Somethin’ about chest hair,” Bucky says with a moue of disgust.  “You don’t wanna know.”

Alec laughs like he’s one joke away from slapping the table.  “Yasha!  I didn’t teach you to be so shy.”

“I know, but I’ve been away from you and back with Captain Pruder-Than-A-Victorian-Grandmother for too long,” Bucky says defensively.  He leans into Alec, taking the sting out of what might have been taken as reproach for leaving him alone.  “’m half surprised he didn’t tried to sew me up in my wool underwear for the winter.”

“I’m pretty sure ‘pruder’ isn’t a word,” Steve sniffs.

Alec settles an arm around Bucky’s shoulders and pats his chest consolingly.  “Let’s find you a good Turkish bath, eh?  I could do with a steam and a rub-down myself.”

Clint chokes on his own gasp.  Tony’s about eighty-seven percent sure that Alec’s only saying these things for Clint’s reaction by now.

 

***

 

Two days later, Alec is gone.

“Q called him up,” Bucky says, slurping down his smoothie from DUM-E- a real, normal, blueberry smoothie, too, made of food, because DUM-E thinks Bucky’s arm makes them kindred spirits and adores him to bits.  Tony would be more annoyed if it weren’t so obviously mutual.  “Said if Alec didn’t turn up by the end of the week, he’d send out his version of a cavalry after him.  God knows what that means.”

“Too bad,” Steve says cheerfully from the sofa.

“Too bad,” Clint sighs sadly from the vents.

“But he’s probably gonna be back in the states soon, so maybe he’ll stop by again?” Bucky says, pitching it like a question, looking straight at Tony.

And there’s the thing.

Tony wants to say no.  He wants to throw down his wrench and say _no_ , dammit, this is _his tower_ , this is _his space_ , he likes his privacy and his security, and Alec Trevelyan is just a hot foreign agent who somehow swans around everywhere like passcodes aren’t a thing.  He likes fire too much and steals Tony’s Avengers and has a record as long as the tower is high.

But, all the same, here’s Bucky, sitting on a stool in Tony’s lab just because he felt like saying hi to the ‘bots, swinging his legs and looking Tony straight in the eye and asking for something he wants.  Bucky, who, a few short months ago, couldn’t set foot in the lab or make direct eye contact without starting to hyperventilate.

Well, it’s not like they don’t have the space.

Tony sighs.

“This guy you call Q,” he says.  “Not quite as smart as he thinks he is.  Well.  Not as smart as _me._   You want me to send Alec’s mission trackers to your tablet?”


End file.
